


Wrapped in You

by shiverelectric



Series: a Stick and a Leaf [2]
Category: Inception
Genre: M/M, and a bit of angst, but more so fluff, in which there is fluff, oh and porn, tons and tons of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiverelectric/pseuds/shiverelectric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames waits up for Arthur to come to bed. Then when he can’t sleep, Arthur helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapped in You

**Author's Note:**

> Written by my lovely cowriter Eleniatallah and myself. Originally posted at astickandaleaf on lj. Not betaed.

1:20 AM.  
  
That was the time.  
  
Eames rubbed a hand at his eyes, pushing his glasses onto his forehead for a moment and sighing softly through his nose. He opened them again and looked back at the clock. Still 1:20, the harsh red letters stared back at him like a taunt.  
  
He leaned forward on the couch, propping his elbows against his thighs and stared at the papers on the coffee table for a minute, trying to make out the letters and numbers through vision that was already blurry despite the rimless reading glasses that were starting to slide down his nose. The forger stood up and arched his back, incredibly stiff.  
  
This was the fifth, no, _sixth_ , night in a row he’d spent staying up, waiting for Arthur to finish his work. Their job was important, it was true, but Eames couldn’t help but be a little worried. Usually, sleeplessness was not good for Arthur. Like that time he’d fallen asleep while he was making sauce, and caught the stove on fire.  
  
Eames peeked into the study, which was dark except for Arthur’s desk lamp. Arthur jumped a bit when Eames placed his hand on his shoulder, but relaxed immediately.  
  
“How’s it going?” Eames asked quietly, leaning down a bit to peek over Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you almost done?”  
  
Arthur turned his head to look at Eames, a small smile on his face. “Eames, yeah, I’m almost done. Just have a few more pages to go over,” he replied, the pull of exhaustion evident in his voice. He’d been so engrossed in his research that the light touch had jolted him back from the seemingly endless paperwork. Research always became more complicated when high-ranking officials were involved, which meant Arthur’s workload increased tenfold.  
  
He glanced at the desktop clock, the small hands indicating how late in the evening (or early in the day) it was. He frowned slightly and asked with a bit of concern, “What are you still doing up, I thought you went to bed a while ago?” Though neither man was a stranger to later than late nights, their current schedule had them starting their days earlier and earlier. And even losing track of time, Arthur was nearly ready to say to hell with it and just pull an all nighter.  
  
“I’m just finishing a little work of my own,” Eames replied, his hand lowering and rubbing Arthur’s upper arm. Eames was a fantastic liar. It was his job. There were circles under his eyes and his voice was hoarse. The last time they had a job like this, Eames’ lack of sleep had gotten him ill. But yet he still did it.  
  
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple. “I hope you get to bed soon, love. You need your beauty sleep.” He grinned at the other man, and patted his arm. “I’ll be in the living room, when you’re done, okay?” After Arthur nodded and returned the smile, he turned back around and was soon lying back down on the couch, picking up a paper, but not really reading it so much as staring at it.  
  
Arthur similarly picked through the reports he’d compiled, skimming the information they contained more than learning it. When it got to the point that he would have to reread a paragraph twice before moving on (and even then not really remembering what it contained), he checked the clock again. 1:55AM, though to Arthur it felt like two hours had passed and not just a mere thirty-five minutes. But to his tired body, time seemed to increase to a dream’s pace.  
  
He rubbed a hand over his face, a yawn rippling through him. Marking where he was in his research, as well as the last clear thing he remembered, he stood and clicked the lamp off. Idly scratching head, he shuffled his way to the bedroom, ready to fall into the sleep of the dead as soon as he touched the bed.  
  
He stopped halfway through the living room when he noticed a sleeping Eames spread out on the couch.  
  
Somehow Eames had moved to lying on his stomach rather than his back, and was fast asleep. His right leg hung off the couch, glasses askew on his face with one hand curled under his cheek. His white t-shirt had ridden up a little, showing a band of skin above the waistband of his jeans. Lips parted and snoring softly, he still had not let go of the paper he had been attempting to read.  
  
Arthur couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Laughing to himself quietly, he moved to Eames’ side and gently removed the glasses, setting them on the table. He didn’t want to wake the forger, he looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, and Arthur knew how much they both needed it.  
  
But the couch wasn’t a place for proper sleeping, and any rest Eames did get while laying so haphazardly wasn’t likely to be very beneficial. Detaching the paper from Eames’ strong grip even in sleep, he ran a hand through the forger’s hair and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Come on, Eames, let’s get to bed,” he murmured, rubbing a hand up and down his back, not quite focusing on the way it caused the fabric of his shirt to ride higher and higher.  
  
“Huh... what?” Eames mumbled as his eyes fluttered open, and he couldn’t see Arthur very clearly, close as he was and without his glasses. He grunted a little and propped himself up on his elbows. He paused, then looked over at the time. A little after 2 AM. He stifled a yawn into his wrist before he shifted himself in a sitting position. His whole body felt like a lead weight.  
  
“Did you finish your work?” he asked groggily, scrubbing at his eyes.  
  
“No,” Arthur said, still smiling warmly and tiredly. “But working is futile when I’d much rather go to bed with you.” As Eames had moved to sit up, Arthur’s hand ended up on the forger’s thigh. He squeezed lightly, then stood up and offered Eames his hand to help him up. “Now, time to go to sleep, Eames.”  
  
Eames chuckled lightly, wrapping his fingers around Arthur’s and using his extra weight to pull himself onto his feet. “You really live up to my nicknames, sweetheart,” he said, not letting go of Arthur’s fingers once they were en route to the bedroom.  
  
“It’ll be kind of an early night for you,” he commented as their hands broke apart and Arthur headed for the bathroom. Eames started to undo the fly of his pants, but he found his one hand was asleep from sleeping on it, and he grunted, shaking feeling back into his hand.  
  
Arthur nodded his agreement; the past few days he was lucky if he was in bed by 4 AM to get an hour’s nap. At Eames’ groan, he looked over his shoulder and laughed at his effort in undressing, crossing over to him and deftly undid the button and pulled the zipper down.  
  
Standing in such proximity to Eames, Arthur could feel the heat of his body, lulling him into a rested state with warmth alone. He exhaled deeply and said in a low voice, “There you go. I’ll be just a moment.”  
  
“Uh, thanks,” Eames replied, watching Arthur retreat into the bathroom. He wondered if Arthur even knew the consequences of even the smallest of his actions sometimes. _He probably does,_ Eames thought, smiling to himself as he took off his clothes and started to pull his pajama pants on. The air in the apartment had been chilly lately.  
  
In the bathroom, Arthur placed his hands on either side of the basin, resting his weight for a moment as his eyes drifted close. Usually his nightly routine was very involved (a long hot shower to relax away the tensions of the day, towel drying his hair and then giving it a few strokes with a brush, brushing and flossing, and then meticulously setting out his clothes for the next day), but tonight he settled for just brushing his teeth.  
  
Finishing his teeth, he walked back into the bedroom, pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it over the back of a chair. Eames was sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajama bottoms. Arthur undid his pants and stepped out of them easily, adding them to the chair. Still dressed in a simple white button down (his tie had been abandoned earlier in the day during hour nine of the meetings) and his boxer briefs, he sat next to Eames on the bed.  
  
Eames sat with his knuckles pressed against his cheek, trying to keep his head up and his eyes open. He hadn’t bothered to change his shirt, but that was nothing unusual for him, if he was wearing a t-shirt to begin with. He sleepily watched Arthur unbutton his shirt for a minute, his eyes heavily lidded. Eventually he reached over and started to help, clumsily, starting with the bottom buttons and working his way to meet Arthur in the middle.  
  
In seconds their fingers touched and tangled with the last of the buttons undone. Eames grabbed the edges, sliding it down and off his shoulders. Then Arthur leaned over and tugged the bottom hem of Eames’ shirt up and over his head.  
  
“Mmm,” Eames murmured sleepily, feeling Arthur’s fingers ghost across his skin and closed his eyes. “You think I should keep that on? Supposed to be cold tonight.” He thought for a moment, then laughed. “Or else you get to be the... oh, what do you Americans call it... ‘the big spoon’?”  
  
Arthur pulled the comforter and covers back, corner of his mouth tilting upwards. “I’m sure I can keep you warm enough through the night,” he replied as Eames crawled up and under the covers. The look on the forger’s face was beatific as he settled into the warmth. Arthur clicked out the light, and slid into the bed behind Eames.  
  
He eased closer to the other man, slotting his body against him like a perfect fit. He rubbed his right hand up and down Eames’ arm slowly, the soft friction generating heat, though Eames always seemed like a furnace to Arthur, who sometimes shivered on even summer nights. He inhaled deeply as he warmed Eames and was warmed in return, in more ways than one.  
  
Arthur sighed his pleasure as he relaxed, then leaned up and kissed the space behind Eames’ ear, whispering, “Good night, Mr. Eames.”  
  
Eames felt his body relax and all of his muscles unwind as Arthur filled in next to him and started to rub his arm gently, the repetitive touch starting to lull him off to sleep. He mumbled his reply back to Arthur and shivered a little at the location of the kiss.  
  
His attempt into dreamland was interrupted, and Arthur felt all of his muscles tense as he abruptly started coughing, a fit that lasted a few minutes. The stubborn cough was the only symptom left from the flu that he had caught a few weeks ago on another of their sleepless bouts, and it was refusing to leave.  
  
He tried to contain it to avoid jarring Arthur, and finally fought them back down. He cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he murmured, now fairly more awake than he once was.  
  
Arthur frowned, hand moving to soothingly rub at Eames’ back. He wished that they’d had more time between jobs to fully recoup. Eames was just barely recovered from getting ill doing the last job, and Arthur himself had just re-acclimated to a regular sleeping schedule before their current one decided to throw it out the window.  
  
Failing to feel the tense note of alertness leave Eames’ muscles, Arthur quietly asked, “Can’t fall back to sleep, can you?”  
  
Eames cleared his throat again and rolled over, his head still tucked under Arthur’s chin, so now his nose was against his neck. He smelled wonderful, as usual, like his cologne and laundry detergent and something else that was unique only to him.  
  
He made a frustrated noise. “I’m sorry. That always wakes me up, and I’m sure it does for you, too. I should’ve gotten that flu shot like you said.”  
  
Arthur lost his reply when he felt Eames’ left arm wrap around him, hand pressing against the small of his back, pulling him closer. “That’s... it’s fine, Eames,” he said, a small hitch in his breathing as their legs tangled together.  
  
Eames shifted his body a little to close the gap his fit had created between them, feeling Arthur’s warmth along his entire body. He moved his head back a little and met the other man’s gaze.  
  
“It’s fine? That’s all you have to say when I admit you were right? Usually you’d be breaking out the recorder and making me say it again for record,” he teased, his palm coming to first rest on Arthur’s side, then sliding down his torso to his hip, following the curve of his body.  
  
“Well, you could say tonight I’m feeling a bit generous,” Arthur replied, the fair light of the moon filtering in through the window reflecting in his eyes. He shivered at Eames’ slow touch, though he felt exceptionally warm. Moving his own hand from Eames’ back to his hip, he swirled a pattern on his skin with his fingers, humming to himself. “Would you like me to help you fall asleep? I happen to know some very relaxing techniques myself...”  
  
Eames chuckled a little, enjoying the teasing pleasure Arthur’s fingers brought tracing circles on his skin. “I can’t believe you’re in this kind of mood,” he mused, watching Arthur’s face carefully. He couldn’t help but smile and shake his head a little. “I thought you were tired.”  
  
With heavy-lidded eyes, Arthur dipped his hand lower, tickling the soft hairs of Eames’ belly. He spread his fingers over the taut muscles of his stomach, feeling a slight tremble from the other man. “I think I’ll be up for a while,” he said, a small smile playing on his face. Hand traveling lower still, he added, “Looks like you might be, too.”  
  
Eames let out a little breath of surprise at the touch that was like a magic button, instantly awakening him in more than one place as goose bumps erupted on his skin. His hand on Arthur's hip tightened in a firm, but not painful grip.  
  
He leaned forward over Arthur's ear. "I'd be lying if I said I would rather sleep,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. "But I don't want you to lose sleep, either, love."  
  
Arthur decided he’d let his hand reply for him as he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of the pajamas, fingers ghosting along Eames’ hardening length. The forger groaned in pleasure and lay back against the bed. Arthur propped himself up on his elbow, a playful tilt of his head as his eyes roamed up and down over Eames’ body. Ever since that one fateful night, Arthur couldn’t get enough of looking, feeling, touching, _tasting_ every part of the forger. Even thinking about it just added to the slow burn he felt in his core.  
  
But he didn’t have to _just_ think about it, especially not when Eames was lying there, mouth open slightly in a soft moan. So, continuing his teasing touches, Arthur leaned over and caught Eames’ bottom lip, sucking carefully and with focus.  
  
Eames made a soft noise, and it sounded like desire and surprise and love all wrapped up in the same sound that started in his throat and went through his nose. His hand tightened on Arthur’s thigh, the other one sliding up underneath him to hold the back of his neck and pull him into an even deeper kiss, first passionate with mouths open and closing, and ending slow and sweet.  
  
“Arthur,” he breathed when he finally found his bearings, every single nerve in his body thrumming loud in his ears, all with the same message repeating over and over. _Touch me. Touch me. Touch me._  
  
All it took was hearing his name fall from Eames’ lips like that, simultaneously a prayer and a plea, and Arthur wrapped his finger’s firmly around Eames. He stroked once, twice as he mouthed the junction of his neck and shoulder, tongue flicking out before he pulled away and gazed at the forger. Eames had such a look of utter want drawn over his features, and Arthur was sure he mirrored the same need and desire on his face.  
  
Arthur wedged his top leg in between Eames’ and lifted, spreading him open. “Eames,” Arthur murmured, his voice low and rough as his cock rubbed against the other man’s thigh. His own breath caught in his throat, and he had to close his eyes as he savored the sensation before he continued, “Nnnh, Eames, as much as I enjoy driving you to the brink, I find myself in similar straits...”  
  
Eames gave an airy laugh, then grunted a bit as Arthur’s leg spread him apart. He removed his hand from the back of Arthur’s neck and reached down, sliding his fingers down the other man’s hard erection, enjoying the reaction he garnered.  
  
“I know, love, I know,” he whispered soothingly. “Don’t worry, I would never leave you hanging like that.”  
  
Arthur hissed his approval, thrusting into Eames’ touch. He threw his head back and groaned deeply when Eames’ fingers dipped lower, trailing a hot blaze over his balls and then back up to wrap around his cock.  
  
Keeping a steady pace on the forger, he uncurled a finger to swipe across the sensitive skin of Eames’ inner thigh. The shiver that ran through Eames matched his own. Then he sat up suddenly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, the kind that would have looked right at place on Eames, but on Arthur was downright sensual and breathtaking.  
  
Eames looked up at him, surprised and still breathing heavily. He looked rather comical, his legs still apart, laying half on his back and half on his side. He paused, then shifted and propped himself up with his elbows, tilting his head at Arthur.  
  
“I believe you have had some sort of epiphany. Are you going to share it with me, or are you going to continue staring at me like you’re going to pounce at any minute?”  
  
“Oh, I think,” Arthur said, leaning forward and licking along Eames’ collar bone, “you’ll be able,” easing up onto his knees, “to follow along.”  
  
Sitting back on his haunches, Arthur ran his freed left hand over Eames’ chest, passing the pads of his fingers over the hard nubs of his nipples. He twisted his grip lightly around Eames’ cock, though he’d slow down enough that Eames was in no danger of missing out on the fun.  
  
Eames made a strangled noise as he angled his hips into Arthur’s grip, tightening his fists around the sheets. He slowly exhaled and stared at Arthur, his forehead moist with perspiration and eyes aflame.  
  
“I... I think I will... be able to do that,” he said quietly.  
  
Arthur smiled as he slowly leaned in close, flicking his tongue against the skin of Eames’ chest. He squeezed his hands, one on a shoulder, the other around his cock and pulling a drawn out moan from Eames. He turned his head slightly to gaze over at Eames as he nipped at his torso. Then Arthur closed his eyes and gently sucked at a different spot, further down, near his hip.  
  
Eames slid further underneath Arthur, letting him touch him wherever he pleased, his muscles tense but his brain relaxed, letting nothing fill his senses but the other man’s touches and squeezes, pulls and pushes, making his blood pound in his ears. One hand came up and fastened on the back of Arthur’s head, entwined in his hair, pulling firmly, but not enough to be painful.  
  
Humming deep in his throat, Arthur shifted onto his right side, nose nuzzling along the soft crease of Eames’ leg. Opening his mouth to speak, he exhaled a gust of hot breath over the cock in his hand, spreading the precome over with his thumb.  
  
“Eames,” Arthur groaned raggedly, hips rolling forward on their own as he licked wetly along the hard shaft. He ran his hand over Eames’ hip, squeezing for all his wants and desires, and wetly mouthed along the forger’s cock.  
  
Eames grunted, ending in a slow moan as he felt Arthur envelope him in his mouth, his tongue stroking and traveling along all of his sensitive areas. “Nngh...fuck.” he murmured, and his eyes stayed shut, enjoying every sensation.  
  
Arthur pulled away with a wet _pop_ , his eyes completely dilated. “Eames, I,” he said, voice nearly ruined with need. He shifted his legs further up the bed, his aching cock inches from the forger’s lips. “Suck me off, Eames,” Arthur nearly begged, nuzzling into his inner thigh.  
  
He lightly nipped Eames’ leg and said, “I want to come in your mouth, while I swallow you down,” and Arthur licked along Eames’ cock before wrapping his lips back around him.  
  
Eames paused and opened his eyes, glancing at Arthur. “Wh-what did you say?” he murmured, before he cleared his throat and shook his head. “Never mind, I heard you.” He grinned, watching Arthur maneuver his way around his shaft, and he looks over at his, then gently slid a few fingers over it, watching Arthur shudder.  
  
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? I can never say you don’t have imagination anymore.” He smiled, leaning forward and licking his way along the shaft, trying not to bite down as Arthur continued to do the same for him.  
  
Arthur moaned around the hardness he sucked in and out of his mouth. The feeling of Eames both in him and around him made him shiver and shake from deep in his core. But he still wanted more, to give and take until he was satisfied to the bone.  
  
He slid his right arm underneath the forger’s legs as he wrapped his other arm around the other side, and pulled him closer, tighter to himself. Arthur’s hips jerked in small movements, but he remained focused on pleasing Eames, running a finger over the curve of his ass, then slipping between the cheeks like a promise for another day.  
  
Eames paused, caught up in the ecstasy that Arthur was giving him, panting hot breath over the other man’s cock, his lips wet and swollen. He finally remembered himself, after Arthur paused for a split second, and raised his hand and slid it over Arthur’s inner thigh, feeling the soft skin, tracing his fingernails ever-so-slightly before sliding his mouth onto his cock, his tongue making zigzags inside his mouth around the taut skin.  
  
 _God, Eames_ , Arthur wanted to pant, but he couldn’t bear to pull off the other man’s cock long enough to voice the words.  
  
Instead he settled for taking a deep breath, and then taking Eames in as far as he could, even using his hands on the back of the other man’s thighs to pull him tight against his face. He nuzzled his nose into Eames’ soft small curls as he swallowed thickly and hummed, sending the vibrations straight through the cock he fucked into his throat.  
  
And it was perfect, perfect, perfect, this feeling of fullness, so much so he couldn’t help the increased intensity his own hips jerked.  
  
Eames quickly took his mouth off Arthur’s shaft so he would not bite him as his fingernails dug into Arthur’s skin on his inner thighs, leaving little crescent shaped red marks just underneath Arthur’s buttocks and he clenched his jaw firmly. “Arth-ohnn, FUCK,” Eames gave a loud groan that was fairly close to a yowl, and came in a hot burst of fire, making every muscle freeze and cramp, and he swore he saw fireworks in front of his eyes.  
  
“Nnnngh,” he groaned as he tried to regain his composure, gently bucking his hips to the rhythmic aftershocks of his orgasm, releasing his death grip on Arthur’s legs, gently sliding his hands down Arthur’s thighs. His face was flushed and sweat was beading on his forehead.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Arthur...” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he looked back and it occurred to him that that kind of technique required a great amount of recompense. He gave Arthur a sly grin, shaking his head a bit, before he slid his hand back up and squeezed one of the other man’s ass cheeks in his hand. He liked a long line up his shaft before sliding his wet mouth back onto it, going back at it with renewed vigor.  
  
His tongue wound laps around Arthur’s shaft and he sucked and released in a hypnotizing rhythm, wrapping his string of magic around Arthur’s entire body. Watching Arthur’s body respond made his mind sing, and he gently slid a few fingers underneath to gently caress the scrotum in a pattern that was slightly off from center stage.  
  
“Nnn, _god_ ,” Arthur moaned as he wrenched hard, caught between pushing into the wet heat around his cock or back against the tantalizing fingers teasing him so. Then to his infinite satisfaction, he no longer had to choose as he felt a finger slide further down and push into him with ease.  
  
With a shudder that went through his entire body, he pressed his face into Eames’ thigh, muffling his cries of pleasure as he mouthed and ran his teeth over the other man’s leg. Slowly a second finger was added, and there, _there_ , Eames had found that spot that made Arthur rock back and forth with insistence. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Arthur groaned, completely undone by the time a third finger was added and coming hard in Eames’ mouth.  
  
Eames took the cum in his mouth and swallowed quickly and fluidly, like an old pro, gently sucking off any extra he might have left behind with lips and tongue as he slid his mouth away. He licked his lips thoughtfully, incredibly satisfied that he had quite obviously given Arthur the amount of satisfaction he had been given himself.  
  
The adrenaline was starting to run out of his veins, and he could feel his limbs start to return to lead weight. He slowly pushed himself up and back towards the headboard, where he wrapped his arms around Arthur once he’d crawled back up and held him through the last aftershocks of his orgasm.  
  
Arthur lay with his head against Eames’ chest, eyes closed and calming his heavy breathing as Eames’ hand rubbed soothing circles over his back. His mind was comfortably blank and fuzzy around the edges, his body relaxing and buzzing from afterglow.  
  
“Eames,” he murmured, voice husky and low, and tilted his head up, nose brushing against Eames’ neck. A corner of his mouth twitched up in a small smile as he reached a hand up and touched the forger’s face. Arthur seemed like he was going to say more, but just settled for humming deep in his throat.  
  
Eames smiled, and it was bright and lit up his entire face as he raised a hand to smooth Arthur’s hair, sticking up every which way now. He planted a kiss on his forehead, gently leaning his own against it afterward, and his stomach did a flip.  
  
Eames had had many lovers, partners, boyfriends and girlfriends; people that said they loved him, people who didn’t, men and women alike. He had adjusted to the fact that he would probably never find someone who he would settle down with. It just wouldn’t work with what he did with his life.  
  
And then he realized that these dream sharing jobs that he was doing in partnership with Arthur and Ariadne was the closest thing to home that he’s ever, ever felt. The dark-haired man pressing his perspiring body against him confused him, angered him. He was also bloody brilliant, loyal and dedicated, and above all, seemed to genuinely fucking care about him, in his own quirky way.  
  
He loved him. He loved the way his neck smelled in the morning, the way his military injury made his leg stiff in the winter, the face he made when he was angry, how the coffee he made tasted like tar, the way he looked at him at times like this that made him feel on top of the world.  
  
He gently smoothed some hair away from Arthur’s face.  
  
“Arthur,” he whispered, his breath hot against his face. And he paused, almost not saying it at all. “Arthur, I love you.”  
  
The words were said so quietly that they were nearly inaudible, almost so that the drifting Arthur could possibly miss it. But he did hear it, and he stiffened, frozen in place. He was glad of the dark and the angle of his head that Eames couldn’t see the way his expression fell at the phrase.  
  
He’d of course heard people say it numerous times in his life. His mother would usually say it to him in frantic apology for her behavior after she had slapped him again, but also sometimes gently when she was clean and thought she did (or could) mean it. She also would plead it to all the men she went through (or went through her) almost monthly. Arthur had heard it said so many times that the words lost meaning, and eventually he stopped saying it, because there was no worth in saying meaningless things.  
  
So when he had heard it from nearly every person he’d known intimately, he knew they said it whether they meant it or not, as if it were just an automatic response and that’s just what people who slept together said to each other, wasn’t it? But not Arthur, never once regretting his decision made as a child to not say it back, and that’s usually how most of those relationships ended, them thinking he didn’t feel the same (and maybe he didn’t since he didn’t bother to explain _why_ and just let them pass through his life).  
  
Arthur hadn’t regretted his decision, and it was all just as well. So why now did his chest constrict so, his heart fall into the bile of his stomach?  
  
Eames felt Arthur’s muscles tense up, and though he couldn’t see Arthur’s face, he could almost picture the creases in his forehead and the corners of his mouth twitching. He honestly did not expect Arthur to say it back at first, just like he did not expect Arthur to like cuddling after sex.  
  
He had surprised him though. He had been quite shocked when Arthur had reached for him the fourth time they had slept together.  
  
He ran a hand down Arthur’s arm, firm and loving. “It’s all right, you don’t have to say it back. You can say it whenever you’re ready. I just... wanted you to know. All right?”  
  
Arthur relaxed in increments with each stroke of Eames’ warm hand, and he curled further into the other man’s chest. The heavy feeling didn’t dissipate, though.  
  
Eames had assured him it wasn’t necessary to reply, to say it back, but Arthur knew that the day would come where Eames would need to hear it back. And while he wasn’t sure if he ever would be ready, he did feel a tenderness for Eames that he hadn’t felt for any of the others. Maybe it had something to do with how long he’d known the forger and the...consistency of their relationship over the years, no matter the stage.  
  
Arthur let the breath he didn’t realize he was holding out in a soft huff, and laid a hand over Eames’ heart. He pressed his lips to the warm skin gently rising and falling beneath him, and with all the affection and gratitude he felt, whispered back, “Go to sleep, Mr. Eames.”  
  
Eames laughed at the reply, light and clear as a bell, before pulling Arthur tighter with one movement of his arm. Still chuckling a bit, he let Arthur know the reply was appreciated with a kiss to the top of his head.  
  
“I’m sorry, love. Did I ruin the moment?” he teased, but there was a morose tinge to his voice. He knew he had made Arthur uncomfortable. But not enough to regret telling him how he really felt.  
  
The negative energy passed as he reached down and took a firm grip of Arthur’s buttocks. He squeezed firmly and let go, chuckling to himself.  
  
“There, is that better?”  
  
Arthur arched against Eames, his anxiety laid by the wayside. “Yes, Eames,” he murmured, sleep edging into his voice. “Much, much better.” He pulled the covers closer around them, and fell asleep snuggled next to the man he could very much say he loved back... someday, soon.


End file.
